Ciel De Soiree
by Vals
Summary: Alternate season finale for CD 2002 Super Challenge- Sydney returns from a mission in France to shocking and devastating news about Will and seeks comfort from Vaughn
1. Make it Brief

Title: Ciel de Soiree (Evening Sky)  
  
Author : Val and Dani  
  
E-mail: Val- Candygurl59@aol.com Dani- Pegasus1788@aol.com  
  
website URL: http://www.geocities.com/AliasLuver/Alias_Obsession- Val  
  
feedback: Val and I would greatly appreciate your opinions :-)  
  
distribution: sure just e-mail us first :-)  
  
disclaimer: I think it would be pretty awesome if we owned this show, but I know I don't. I don't know Val personally, but something tells me she's also not ABC, JJ Abrams, or Bad Robot. ;-)  
  
summary: Alternate season finale for CD 2002 Super Challenge- Sydney returns from a mission in France to shocking and devastating news about Will.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for mild cursing  
  
Classification: Drama/Angst  
  
~Part 1~  
  
  
  
LOS ANGELES  
  
It was late. I was tired. The night was cool and no stars or moon could be found against the velvety black sky. Something, somewhere, a far off echo or a whisper in the horizon seemed to be calling a warning to me- danger was coming.  
  
And yet I continued driving along the smoky colored road, the bright lights of LA traffic blurring as I sped towards my destination. My watch beeped gallingly into the buzzing silence, and I glanced down quickly.  
  
12:00 AM.  
  
With a half sigh, half yawn, I pulled my car into a parking space outside the building I'd unfortunately come to know so well. I honestly could never see how people passed this "bank" and suspected nothing. Could they not feel the cold atmosphere surrounding it? They didn't notice the evil spilling out of the cracks in the walls? They could not see that they were being deceived?  
  
I guess not. I hadn't.  
  
Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I'd just turned down that stupid offer seven years ago. I'd probably be sitting in a warm, lovely house, the kind I'd always imagined living in. It had creamy colored walls and burgundy curtains. Danny and I would be cuddling on a midnight blue couch in front of a crackling fire, a smiling, bouncing baby girl on my lap. Will would be safe at home as well, thinking up a storm for an article, not locked away in a safe house, random agents looking in on him from behind a mirror.  
  
But I wouldn't know Vaughn.  
  
I shook the thoughts off and entered Credit Dauphine, almost laughing at the irony of the fact that I came to SD-6 like a slave every time I was summoned by my pager, when really all I wanted to do was see it go up in flames like the Hell it was.  
  
"Hello, Agent Bristow. I'm sorry about the late hour of this meeting, but I'll need to send you on this mission tomorrow morning," Sloane greeted me as I walked into the briefing room. I took my seat next to Dixon and looked up at the screen behind Sloane as it flickered.  
  
An image of a painting appeared on the screen. It was of a garden, swirling with color. Flowers in every hue of blue, purple, and pink were sprinkled against a shocking green ground. Its beauty was captivating, and I wondered how anything this gorgeous could be involved with anything so evil as SD-6.  
  
Sloane pointed up at the image. "This is a painting by the French artist Jacques Loring. Loring is believed to have been a loyal follower of Rambaldi, and there is evidence of a code hidden in this painting that will put together one more piece of the Rambaldi puzzle. The painting is in the Hilaire Art Gallery in Nantes, France. Agent Bristow, Agent Dixon, you will be going to the gallery as Michelle Cortez and Maurice Holden, two art dealers. Your mission is simple. Retrieve the painting and bring it back so the codes can be deciphered. Marshall will brief you on the op-tech."  
  
Marshall stood. "Umm, good evening everyone. I'm gonna try and get this done fast because I'm sure we're all tired. I know I am, so I made this, um, coffee in case anyone needs some caffeine," he pointed to a steaming thermos on the table next to him. Sloane gave him an exasperated glare.  
  
Marshall blushed. "Um, no one? Well, ok then. Anyway, this," he held up what appeared to be an expensive calligraphy pen, "looks like an ordinary pen, right? You know, write birthday cards, wedding invitations, love letters. yeah. okay. But really, when you unscrew it and take out the ink chamber, it is used as a security scrambler. You pour some of this ink into the alarm and that baby will sizzle like eggs in a frying pan. Then, you're free to grab the painting and run. Well, maybe not grab and run 'cause that would be a bit obvious, but you know what to do. is everyone sure they don't want coffee?" ******************************************************************  
  
TBC.  
  
~this part was written by Dani 


	2. Part 2

~Part 2~  
  
Sydney walked into her house and plopped down on the couch. She was exhausted. Francie walked in and sat down next to her.  
  
"Work at this time in the morning? You really need a break Syd." Sydney sighed. Her eyes were tired but she was looking forward to tonight.  
  
"Yeah. The worst part is I have to go on a trip tomorrow morning."  
  
"What? But Syd, it's past midnight! They can't just do this to you!" Sydney cheered up as the phone rang.  
  
"It looks like they can" She stood up and picked up the phone.  
  
"Hello?" As soon as his voice filled her head, she felt as awake as ever.  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
"Sorry, wrong number" She hung up and smiled at her friend.  
  
"I have to go out and buy something for my trip, I'll be right back though Fran, ok?" Francie smiled and put a supportive arm around her shoulder.  
  
"Sure, Syd" Sydney grabbed her purse and keys, waved to Francie and was off to the warehouse."  
  
******************************************************************  
  
"So, what's the counter mission?" I asked Vaughn, carefully hiding my face in the overcast blue gray shadows. I didn't want him to know about the sleep I had lost worrying about Will, and he seeing the dark purplish- red circles under my eyes would give me away.  
  
"There is none," he answered simply.  
  
Relief swept through me as I realized that no counter mission would free me of a lot of the tension and guilt I dealt with on each mission. "Great. Why?"  
  
"We've known about this painting for a while. As it turns out, Jacques Loring was a practical joker. He painted a fake code into the said work just to send hunters like Sloane on a wild goose chase."  
  
I almost laughed. "I think I like this guy. So, since the painting's a fake, I just steal it and give it to SD-6 as planned."  
  
"That's it."  
  
Getting up, I accidentally moved out of the shadows that hid me like a blanket.  
  
"Syd, are you okay? You look exhausted," Vaughn reacted to my pale color and dark eye circles just the way I'd expected him to.  
  
"I am. This isn't an easy job." Not much of a point in lying.  
  
He smiled warmly and my knees went weak. "You're right. It's not."  
  
We stood in silence, looking at one another awkwardly.  
  
"You. you should go. Get some sleep before the mission," Vaughn advised suddenly.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you're right."  
  
We walked towards the gate and he pushed it open, letting me through. He followed me out. We went our separate ways, and didn't glance back once. But there was something that hung in the air; both of us felt it that night. It was unspoken, but present all the same.  
  
That presence stayed with me as I walked home, the faint glow of streetlights surrounding me and the air seeming to warm up just a little. ******************************************************************  
  
~Syd at Home was written by Val  
  
~The Warehouse Scene was written By Dani  
  
more coming soon!! 


	3. Part 3

Part 3  
  
NANTES  
  
Dixon and I entered the Hilaire Art Gallery. It was a lovely building, the walls of a raven black marble and a golden roof, which sparkled, catching the light of the bright sun.  
  
I was somewhat relaxed, contrary to most missions. I was wearing a dress a bit more comfortable than the usual hooch look. Midnight blue, it came down to my knees. A matching purse holding the pen Marshall had given me and a long, wavy auburn wig finished off the look.  
  
Searching the echoing halls of the gallery, I spotted a man in a horrible royal purple suit and a thick brown mustache. His name tag read "Pascal Hilaire."  
  
"Dixon," I whispered, clenching my teeth so no one would no I was talking. "There's the owner."  
  
We made our way towards him and I smiled, extending my hand to offer a shake. "Bonjour. Mon nom est Michelle Cortez et c'est mon associé Maurice Holden. Nous sommes ici pour l'agence d'art de Paradis et nous voudrions discuter s'occuper de quelques travaux particular (1)," I greeted in French.  
  
"Le Pascal Hilaire, mon grand-père était le fondateur de cette galerie. Plaisir de vous rencontrer. Svp, montrez-moi vos intérêts. (2)" Pascal returned the smile and gave me a quizzical look. "Um, Mme. Cortez, vous parlez Anglais (3)?"  
  
Relieved, I answered, "Yes, yes I do."  
  
"Monsieur Hilaire, we are looking specifically for a painting by a Jacques Loring. Garden of Hope, I believe is the English translation," Dixon prompted.  
  
"Ahh, lovely work. Follow me, please."  
  
He led us down several luxuriously decorated hallways and stopped in front of the painting Sloane had shown us on the screen. Its beauty was even more captivating up close.  
  
"Yes, beautiful piece. Le Jardin de L'espoir. The Garden of Hope. He 47th work in the Loring collection. So, you are interested in buying this work?" Pascal asked, just a brief second before Dixon put on his famous seizure routine.  
  
"Oh my! Madame, your partner is having a seizure!" Pascal exclaimed.  
  
"He's epileptic, it's happened before but he needs help! I'll stay here with him, please call a doctor!" I pleaded. The hall was empty except for us; obviously it wasn't a busy day. Pascal raced down the hallway leaving Dixon and I alone.  
  
We checked to be sure no one was coming before I helped Dixon up and yanked open my purse.  
  
"Do your thing," Dixon whispered as I clutched the pen tightly and pulled out the ink tube.  
  
Examining the painting, I discovered a tiny blinking red light behind it. I noted the small green wire attached to it.  
  
"Found the alarm," I said quietly, and carefully let the ink of the pen drip onto the wire.  
  
For a moment, the dark blue liquid ran down against the red wire, and then began to sizzle. Only a second later, the wire was completely melted away and the red light stopped blinking. Reaching up, I grabbed the painting off the wall and tucked it carefully under my arm. Dixon opened the briefcase he was carrying and pulled out a duplicate of the painting. He handed it to me and I placed it in the empty spot where the original one had hung.  
  
"Let's go," I said to Dixon, and we exited quickly out the fire escape just before Hilaire came rushing back.  
  
Once safe in a van and on the road, I said to Dixon, "Isn't this dangerous? He'll know it was us."  
  
"Yeah. But by the time they realize that painting is a fake, we'll be long gone," Dixon answered.  
  
"Ha. Right."  
  
Mission accomplished  
  
I told myself, and we turned sharply onto the freeway towards the airport.  
  
****************************************************************** Sydney got out of the car and walked towards the CIA safehouse. The sky was like a canvas, filled with shades of crimson, violet, pink, and orange that painted it with grace. Despite its beauty Sydney felt it again. That whisper in time that seemed to tell her something was wrong, that danger was ahead. She tried to ignore it.  
  
Softly, she knocked on the door. Nobody answered. The warning seemed to ring in her ears. She tried to push it aside and put her hand to the doorknob, turning it gently. To her surprise, it opened. Sydney walked inside.  
  
"Will?" Nobody answered. She looked around, paced the entire safehouse quickly. She searched behind every door, in every room, in every corridor, but Will was nowhere to be found. She found herself in front of the door through which she had entered.  
  
The feeling had stayed with her this whole time. It seemed to pulse through her body, to flow through her veins, but it's presence was largest in her head, where it warned her that something was wrong, that something was not the way it should be.  
  
She walked to the door, the door that led to the other side of the mirror, where the agents watched everything; surely they would know what was going on.  
  
She knocked on the door.  
  
"Hello?" Her voice was faint, barely above a whisper.  
  
She turned the doorknob and was surprised to find once again that the door gave way to the room without a fight.  
  
Sydney pushed the door open slightly and closed her eyes. She was afraid of what she might find. The feeling flooded her mind, it rang in her ears. She felt sick.  
  
She opened the door fully and gasped. A silent scream. The scream would not come. Her mouth hung open and she closed her eyes. The tears stung her eyelids, but she would not open them.  
  
The agents inside the room, they were dead. She had found them, lying on the ground, covered in blood. She closed the door and pressed herself to the wall. She kept her eyes closed, but the tears seeped through. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number.  
  
She called the one person, the one man that she knew she could trust. She could trust him with her life. The one man that she could confide in, the one man who would always be there for her, despite the situation. Her Guardian Angel. She heard his voice and finally opened her eyes. A single tear streamed down her cheek.  
  
"Vaughn here"  
  
"Vaughn, its Sydney," She spoke, her voice small, barely audible, "can we meet?"  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Mission written by Dani Safehouse scene written by Val 


End file.
